


Reflective Shards

by Dark_Sinestra



Series: DS9: Sub-Prime [13]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Manipulation, Secrets, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 18:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16455185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Sinestra/pseuds/Dark_Sinestra
Summary: In the wake of a tumultuous reunion between two symbionts with new hosts, Dax and Khan, Julian is forced to confront some harsh truths about relationships and what it takes to make them successful. Garak delves deeper into the mystery of what makes the doctor tick and discovers some surprising things about himself and his friendships along the way.





	Reflective Shards

**Part I**  
   
_Garak  
Private Quarters_  
   
Running his comb through his hair one final time, Garak checked his reflection in his full length mirror. He had rejected the tunic that he knew was Julian's favorite. Being obvious had never been his style. Besides, he wasn't going to dinner in order to throw himself at his former lover in front of the man's current love interest. To say that would be poor form would be more than understatement. No, he agreed to this dinner date out of curiosity more than anything else. What did the Dabo girl really want, and what did she expect to come of this? He didn't know her well enough to be able to take such a gesture at face value.  
   
He sighed at his reflection, supposing it was unrealistic to expect entire satisfaction with face or figure at his age. The reality was that he was past his prime by at least a decade, more if he was being honest. He looked well put together and respectable in the rich brown tunic with gold accents, a newer piece that he had worn only twice before. He checked the chronometer, picked up the small gift basket sitting on his dining table by its handle, and headed out the door. Barring any distraction along the way, he knew he would arrive at Leeta's quarters about five minutes early, not early enough to be an imposition.  
   
He inclined his head pleasantly to those he passed in the H-ring corridors, some returning the gesture, most not. After years on the station, he was so used to this treatment he hardly noticed it anymore. It seemed natural. When he reached the Bajoran woman's door, he gave his tunic a final tug at the hem, shrugged his shoulders so that his sleeve cuffs fell just so, and rang the chime.  
   
“Enter,” came a somewhat tremulous voice.  
   
The door opened, and Garak stepped into a colorful room. Before he could stop himself, he curled his lip. The sharp, acrid stench of burnt food lay thick in the air in a haze of smoke. Leeta, dressed very modestly and looking quite nice, took one look at him and burst into tears. Julian was nowhere to be seen.  
   
For a moment, he felt rooted to the spot. Tears were something he never handled well. It was different in an interrogation, when he knew the reason for them, fear or pain, and had been the one to induce them. However, coming across strong emotional displays unexpectedly threw him off balance, particularly with women. He hoped that she would pull herself together. Instead, she covered her face, sobbing for all the world as though she had just lost everything.  
   
_Oh, dear,_  Garak thought in dismay. Where was Julian? He looked for a place to set the gift basket and settled for a chair against the wall near the door, then closed the distance between them, reluctant to touch her. “Leeta?” he said tentatively.  
   
“I'm sorry,” she choked out between sobs. “I...everything is just...Julian is late, and...oh, Prophets, what a...what a mess!”  
   
Carefully, he reached out a hand and touched her shoulder. “Come now,” he said. “Let's...let's sit down for a moment, shall we?”  
   
She allowed him to guide her to the sofa, sitting turned away from him and starting to wipe her face. “I...really am sorry,” she said in a shaky voice, trying to bring herself under control. “You probably think...I'm an idiot.”  
   
“Of course not,” he said, although he wasn't sure how true that was. “Why don't you tell me what has happened? Perhaps I can be of help?”  
   
“Just great,” she said miserably. “My house guest has to help me.”  
   
“Or not,” he added quickly, terrified she was about to launch into a fresh batch of sobbing. “I...” He struggled for something to say that wouldn't sound inane, staying quiet for too long in the process.  
   
She looked at him finally and swallowed hard. “This is really awkward,” she said, her lips trembling. However, she seemed to be pulling herself back together, no longer outright crying. She sniffed a few times and dabbed at her eyes with her fingers.  
   
“Yes,” he agreed. “I'll find you a napkin.”  
   
She stopped him with a hand to his sleeve. “No,” she said. “I'll do it. You just...sit.”  
   
He did as she said, locking his hands around his knees in a tighter grip than it appeared. Of all of the things that had run through his mind in the past three days, this scenario wasn't one of them. At least she hadn't grabbed him or expected him to hold her. He wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't have outright fled had she done such a thing. He watched her warily as she blew her nose and wiped at her face with her back to him. “I should have just had Julian invite you out to eat with us,” she said, still not facing him. “I'm not a good cook. I never have been.” She blew her nose again.  
   
“I...would have been fine with replicated food,” he ventured.  
   
She turned to face him, tucking her napkin into a balled fist, and shaking her head. “No,” she said. “I mean, maybe you would've, but that's not the point.” She sighed heavily. “Two of the most important people in my life think so highly of you,” she said.  
   
_Two?_  He dipped his brow ridges downward in confusion. “Who?” he asked.  
   
“Julian and Rom,” she said in a tone of voice that made it sound as though she thought he was silly for even having to ask. “They speak of you often, how intelligent you are, how much you know, how much you can do. I...I wanted to do something special.” She looked dangerously close to tears again, reaching up to dab at her eyes. “Nothing went right. I...I didn't even get off shift until almost seven this morning because the latinum tallies didn't work out right, so Quark wouldn't let anyone leave.  
   
“The...the stall was out of katterpods altogether. Well, I couldn't make hasperat without katterpods as a side, so I...I stupidly tried for a soufflé instead. You can smell how well that went. Collapsed and burned, both. Julian called me about ten minutes ago to tell me he'd be tied up at least another hour because somebody came in with plasma burns, and he warned me you wouldn't be late. I thought about calling you, but I didn't want to be rude and cancel at the last minute. I should have.”  
   
He realized that she was actually crying again, just much more quietly and in a more controlled way. He stood and approached her. “Do you know,” he said conversationally, “I've never been able to keep a soufflé from collapsing?”  
   
“Have you ever even tried to make one?” she asked, her warm brown eyes narrowed in a shrewd squint.  
   
He smiled. “Not even once,” he said.  
   
Her smile began tremulously but quickly blossomed into full blown amusement. “You're...awful,” she said, her amusement then shifting to concern. “If you want to leave, I wouldn't blame you.”  
   
“And if I want to stay?” he asked, once more carefully touching her shoulder.  
   
“It would be beyond gracious of you,” she said. “The whole place reeks of burned food. I'm a mess, and who knows when Julian will get here? It's not like we can open a window.”  
   
“We can open the door,” he said. “I can try to fan the worst of it out of here while you freshen up. We can either replicate something or pick up some takeout from wherever you like. Besides, I brought wine, and, selfishly, I'd like to have at least one glass of it.”  
   
She took his hand between both of hers and pressed it warmly, offering him another smile, this one more relaxed. “OK,” she said, some strength returning to her voice. “The corkscrew is on the table over there,” she gestured. “Why don't you go ahead and open the wine so it can breathe. I'll open the door so  _we_  can breathe, and I'll take your suggestion.”  
   
He saw no guile in her open expression, just simple gratitude and underlying exhaustion that had to be more long-term than just one night of lost sleep. He nodded and returned the squeeze, then disentangled himself so that he could do as she said. With the door open, the worst of the smoke dissipated, and his nose adjusted to the smell enough that it didn't phase him much. He took one of the large, colorful napkins and fanned around vigorously, airing out the place to the best of his ability.  
   
_So she's close to Rom,_  he thought. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, letting out a startled laugh, a realization hitting him hard.  _He played me,_  he thought.  _He actually played me!_  It made sense, Rom's inexplicable animosity toward Julian, how quickly he had come to Garak to tell him about his flirtation with Leeta, his subsequent siding with him and resentment of Julian. He felt no resentment at the fact, himself. It was his own fault for not looking harder at the Ferengi or truly questioning his motives. His respect for Rom notched higher. He was still chuckling quietly to himself when Leeta came out again, looking much more in control of herself and cleaned up.  
   
“What's so funny?” she asked.  
   
“I just imagined someone walking past your door and spotting me waving this napkin about,” he lied smoothly.  
   
“You've done a wonderful job of clearing the air,” she said, instructing the computer to close the door once more. She hesitated and added, “In more ways than one. Thank you, Garak.”  
   
“What kind of guest would I be if I left you in such straights?” he asked, uncomfortable with her gratitude. He didn't want to like her. She was making sticking to that difficult.  
   
She curved a half smile and approached the table, pouring both of them a glass of wine. “Julian mentioned that about you,” she said, turning to hand him his.  
   
“What?” he asked, feeling a little wary and at a disadvantage as he accepted the glass. She was bound to have heard much more about him than he her, at least some of it true.  
   
“That you have a hard time taking credit for the good things that you do,” she said. Before he could think of a response to that, she changed the subject. “So, what will it be, replicator, or takeout?”  
   
_Julian  
The Infirmary_  
   
Julian double checked the readings on his patient before finally deciding to turn his care over to the night duty nurse. He had managed to patch the worst of the external damage, but it would be some time before the engineer's lung tissue and sinus cavities fully healed from the terrible burns they had sustained. He had the man heavily sedated and on the best pain medication he could obtain. There truly was nothing else he could do for him at the moment. “If there's any significant change in his condition, call me,” he instructed the nurse.  
   
Of all the nights for something major to go wrong, it just had to be the night that Garak was due for dinner with him and Leeta. He winced to himself as he thought of what she must be going through at the moment. She had sounded on the edge of hysterics when he called her to let her know he'd be late, but he hadn't had time to find out what had happened, if anything. He knew that she was a ball of nerves about the dinner. He couldn't exactly blame her. Garak could be intimidating even to those who knew him well.  
   
He hurried away from the infirmary on his way to the turbolift. He was already an hour and a half late. He hoped that they had decided to eat without him. Otherwise, the soufflé would have already collapsed, and everything would be cold. He had intended to stop by his quarters first so that he could change into something nice. He felt that if he did so now, Leeta might be angry with him for the further delay, and Garak would probably think it was rude. He wondered if Garak was utterly miserable. Leeta wasn't exactly the sort he usually chose to associate with, and if he had any lingering feelings of resentment or jealousy toward her, he would not be enjoying himself. He could also be incredibly snarky.  
   
That thought made him hurry all the more once he stepped off on the correct level. He was jogging by the time he reached her door and keyed in the entry code. He walked in on the sound of mutual laughter and a faint, lingering scent of burnt food. “There you are,” Leeta said, unfurling from her seat at the table to greet him properly.  
   
Garak stood and inclined his head pleasantly. “Good evening, Doctor,” he said.  
   
Leeta gave him a quick hug and kissed his cheek then guided him over to the table with an arm around his waist. “Garak was just telling me about some of his adventures when he was a gardener,” she said. “Did you know he even spent some time on Romulus?”  
   
“Did he now?” he asked, eying Garak a little warily. There was no telling what wild yarns he had been spinning for Leeta's benefit. As he took a seat at the table, he noticed that the food was all in takeout boxes. “What happened to the soufflé?” he asked.  
   
Garak shot him a warning look, but it was too late. A little bit of Leeta's good mood deflated. “I ruined it,” she said. “Just like I always ruin anything I try to cook that's harder than mashed katterpods.”  
   
“Soufflés are very overrated,” Garak said. “Think about it. All that effort for what amounts mostly to air. I think it's the effort that makes people assume they're worth eating.”  
   
She smiled warmly at him. “I'm almost one hundred percent sure you're just saying that for my benefit,” she said. “But I'm going to go ahead and believe you, because it's entirely too sweet of you.”  
   
He watched the Cardassian, searching for tell-tale signs of dislike or sarcasm underneath the facade. So far, he could see none, but he didn't entirely trust his observation skills when it came to Garak. He could be extremely convincing when he wished to be. The two seemed comfortable together. Julian helped himself to what remained of the food and the wine. “Did you bring this?” he asked Garak as he poured.  
   
“Indeed,” Garak replied. “I also brought some chocolates, but I'm afraid I ate so much dinner I couldn't possibly have any.”  
   
“This is Leeta's favorite brand of spring wine,” Julian said.  
   
“He asked Quark,” she said, smiling at Garak. “I'm not sure which surprised me more, the fact that he did that, or the fact that Quark knew.”  
   
“He can be very thoughtful,” he said, also smiling at Garak and wondering somewhere in the back of his mind what the catch was.  
   
“He really can,” she said. “It makes me sorry I waited this long to do this.”  
   
“Well,” Garak said, “there's nothing to stop us from doing it again. We almost have to, given the fact that the doctor was held over at work so late.”  
   
“Oh, yes,” she agreed, turning her attention back to Julian. “How is your patient? Did everything go OK?”  
   
“He's stabilized,” he said, the entire moment strangely surreal. He expected tension and discomfort, perhaps false joviality from both of them, not this. How much of that wine had they drunk? Had Garak brought just one bottle? “I think he'll pull through. I have to say, the two of you are making me feel sorry I had to be late. It seems as though you've been having a good time.”  
   
“The evening has been delightful,” Garak said pleasantly, “marred only by your absence. Wouldn't you say, my dear?” he asked Leeta.  
   
“Yes,” she said. “I've been pleasantly surprised.” She turned her attention to Julian. “You know, I really understand now why you have lunch with him as often as you do. He's a marvelous conversationalist.”  
   
“You're entirely too kind,” Garak said.  
   
Julian laughed a little uncomfortably. “Forgive me for saying this, but the two of you are going to make me sick if you keep up this...”  
   
“This what?” Garak asked, blinking at him innocently.  
   
“Yes, what?” Leeta echoed, looking slightly cross.  
   
“Nothing,” he said quickly, shoving in a bite of food so he wouldn't be expected to say more. He gestured for them to continue talking while he ate, actually quite hungry and realizing that if he said anything more along that line, he was going to find himself outnumbered. He also realized that he had been so worried that they wouldn't get along that he hadn't let himself consider how it would be if they did.  
   
After all this time, he still couldn't tell when Garak was spinning tales and when he was telling the truth. While Julian ate, Garak continued telling Leeta of some of his exploits before he ever came to the station. Julian tried to read between the lines, suspecting that many of the mundane and amusing scenarios he described had buried within them clues of what really happened and what he had really been about. He noticed that Garak played to Leeta's interest in sociology. He could hardly be upset with him for being such a good guest, but he couldn't help but to wonder if the amiability hid an ulterior motive.  
   
“Excuse me for just a moment,” she said at a natural lull in the conversation. She stood and wagged a playful finger at both of them. “No talking about me while I'm gone.” She then headed into the washroom.  
   
Julian watched her go and then turned his attention back to Garak. “So,” he said, “enjoying yourself?”  
   
“I am,” he said. “I was sorry you weren't able to have dinner with us, but I've...actually had a good time tonight.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the washroom and back to him. “She's a genuinely nice person,” he said.  
   
“You thought I'd date someone who wasn't?” the doctor asked, amused.  
   
“You did date me,” the tailor retorted with a gratified “gotcha” smile.  
   
Julian shook his head and chuckled. “In the name of diplomacy, no comment.”  
   
“Well, that's no fun at all,” Garak said, still smiling.  
   
He thought of a couple of things he could say to that in return and said neither, surprised that after all this time, there were still moments that Garak could look at him in a certain way and make his breath catch. He was almost positive the Cardassian was aware of it and did it on purpose. By the time he realized they had held eye contact in silence far longer than was appropriate to the circumstances, Leeta returned and broke the moment. “Who wants chocolate?” she asked brightly.  
   
_Garak  
Leeta's Quarters_  
   
He stayed later than he had originally intended. Leeta's second yawn in less than two minutes cued him that it was time to go. “Where has the time gone?” he asked, moving to stand from his seat on the sofa.  
   
“I have no idea,” Leeta said sleepily. She stood at the same time Julian did. “I hate to be the one to ruin the party, but I'm so tired I can hardly see straight. Julian, would you be a dear and walk Garak home?”  
   
“Of course,” the doctor said, hiding his disappointment at being kicked out fairly well. Garak doubted that she saw it.  
   
She leaned up and kissed him good night then closed the distance to Garak and hugged him warmly, whispering in his ear, “Thank you so much for earlier.” He returned the embrace awkwardly and stepped back as soon as she allowed him, unused to such effusiveness. She walked both of them to her door. “Good night, you two. Thanks for a wonderful evening.”  
   
“Thank you,” Garak said graciously. When the door closed, he looked at Julian. “You hardly have to walk me home,” he said. “It's not even on your way.”  
   
“I don't mind,” the doctor said, falling into step beside him. “Besides, it gives me the chance to hear what you really think.”  
   
“As disappointing as this must be for you to learn, in this case, I told you the truth,” he said, amused. “I like her. She's a good woman. You could certainly do much worse.”  
   
“I worried that things wouldn't go well,” Julian confessed. “I know how you can be.” He glanced at Garak.  
   
“Are you trying to pick a fight with me or flirt?” the tailor asked casually without looking at him. “Sometimes, it's difficult for me to tell.” Julian opened his mouth and shut it again, coloring faintly. Garak smirked inwardly. Some things never changed, it seemed. He could still flummox the younger human without much effort. “Either way it doesn't matter,” he continued. “I have no intention of poaching you from that lovely young woman.”  
   
Julian cleared his throat. “You know, I'd actually have a say in the matter,” he said.  
   
They stepped into the turbolift and Garak directed it to his level. “Of course you would,” he said reasonably, still not looking at the doctor. He changed the subject. “I have to admit that I was expecting that you'd stay the night.”  
   
“Sometimes when she's really tired, she has a hard time sharing the bed,” he said.  
   
“Why not seek quarters with a larger bed?” Garak asked.  
   
Julian snorted a laugh. “You and I were together for years and never made such a move. Why do you think I'd be so quick to do it with someone else?”  
   
_Why not?_  Garak thought, finally looking over at him searchingly.  _Why such distance, even when you're close?_  It was something he had thought about before, of course, when they were still together. Seeing it from the outside, it seemed stranger than it had in the context of their own relationship, perhaps because he wasn't distracted by his own intimacy issues.  
   
“What's with you and Dax trying to rush me into something?” he asked, looking irritated.  
   
_Why are you so desperate to put me off of this?_  Garak wondered. “Dax is Leeta's friend, is she not?” he asked instead.  
   
“Yes,” Julian said warily.  
   
“Then perhaps it's natural that she'd like to see two of her friends happy together,” he said.  
   
“That doesn't explain you,” the doctor retorted.  
   
“Is it so odd to you that I'd like to see you happy, as well?” he asked, cocking his head slightly.  
   
The turbolift came to a gliding stop, and they stepped off of it, walking side by side at a leisurely pace. Julian looked chastened. “No, I suppose not,” he muttered. “I just don't want to rush things.”  
   
Garak grunted a non comment. He didn't buy that for an instant, not coming from a man he knew usually made romantic decisions with the speed of a sand fly.  
   
Julian stopped walking. “What was that supposed to mean?” he demanded.  
   
“I don't know why you ask me about things you don't want to hear,” Garak said a bit crossly. “I tell you, and then you become angry with me. I've had a pleasant evening. I'd just as soon not end it on that sort of note.” He knew very well from hard experience that if he expressed his observation, Julian would simply find a way to provoke him to genuine anger or find another equally effective way to shut him out. He was tired of that dance, had tired of it well before they broke things off. It was no more attractive from a greater distance. He turned and kept walking.  
   
“I know you mean well,” Julian said, trying to be conciliatory and hurrying to catch up.  
   
“At least there's that,” Garak replied. “As you see, we're now at my door. This is where I should take my leave. Good night, Doctor.”  
   
“Garak, wait,” he said, stopping him with a hand to his forearm. “I don't want you going to bed upset with me.”  
   
Garak looked at his hand until he removed it. He raised his gaze, meeting the concerned umber eyes squarely. “What do you want?” he asked.  
   
“That's...not fair,” Julian said hesitantly.  
   
Garak snorted. “Neither is indecisiveness. When...if...you ever think you're ready to answer that question, I'd like to know. I'm sure Leeta would, too. Why do you think she was so keen to get to know me better? It's not the size of the bed that's the problem, and you know it. Good night, Doctor,” he said more firmly and this time stepped into his quarters and shut the door behind him before Julian could stop him.  
   
_He may not know what he wants,_  Garak thought,  _but I know what I don't want. I don't want any part of that same old pattern._  He had wondered before the dinner if the time had possibly come for them to re-evaluate their friendship and take some steps toward the attraction that had never fully given way. Now he was quite certain that they should not, not while Julian still insisted on holding the entire world at arms' length. If he couldn't let someone as open and guileless as Leeta in, there was no hope of Julian's letting himself be close to him. He was positive of that.  
   
He couldn't deny that he was disappointed, but he wasn't particularly angry. More than anything, he was curious. Perhaps he had never looked at the issue properly, he reflected. He had been so busy trying to find a way around it and feeling hurt and rejected when he couldn't, mostly on a subconscious level, that he never directly questioned why it was, or even what it was.  _Emotion never solved a problem,_  he thought. _It only serves to cloud the mind._  He decided that he'd be spending more time with Leeta in the future. Perhaps she could either directly offer some insight or indirectly give him something to observe. Now that he realized he was onto something, he wasn't going to be quick to let it go. As strange as it was, he recognized that in Leeta he had an ally in this situation. It was going to be interesting to see where it led.  
   
_Julian  
Habitat Ring_  
   
Julian stood outside the closed door, so taken aback by what Garak had just said that at first he could hardly think of what to do. Since when had everyone decided that they knew more about his relationship with Leeta than he did? First Dax, now Garak, what right did they have to lecture him or take him to task, particularly Garak of all people? Indecisive? How was he being indecisive? So what if they had exchanged a few weighted looks over the past few months? They had always done that, even before he was consciously aware there was a mutual attraction. If Garak was under the impression he was trying to lead him on or get something started, well, he was going to have to set him straight about that.  
   
He started walking before consciously deciding where he would wind up. It was a colossally bad idea, a stupid idea of epic proportions, yet he couldn't stop himself. The one person who always managed to make him feel better in situations like this was Miles. Besides, he still owed him a real apology and clearing of the air. This was as good of a time as any to do that. Miles was almost always still awake this time of night.  
   
He hailed him and waited for him to answer. The answer was a little slow in coming. When the door opened, it revealed a somewhat disheveled engineer rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “Julian?” he asked. “What're you doin' here? 'S after midnight. Is everything OK? Is it Tommy?”  
   
“Tommy?” he asked, frowning. “Oh, you mean Ensign Powers. No, no, it's nothing like that. His condition is stable.” He felt selfish now, peering into the bleary hazel eyes and realizing he had managed to drive all thoughts of sleep away from the man who took any accidents under his watch very seriously and personally.  
   
Miles stepped back from the door and gestured him in absently, heading over to the replicator to order himself a raktajino. “Y' want somethin'?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.  
   
Julian shook his head, smiling slightly as he stepped inside and took a seat in one of the deep leather chairs in the living room. “I suppose I thought you'd still be awake,” he said by way of apology. “You often are at this time.”  
   
“I know,” he said, turning and bringing his coffee with him to the sofa. “Just crashed and burned tonight after cleaning up that plasma leak. I still don't know how it happened,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand through his tangled curls. “What can I do for you?”  
   
“I haven't enjoyed...being at odds,” he said hesitantly, glancing at him uncertainly.  
   
“You 'n me, both,” Miles said, looking understandably wary.  
   
“I know why you did what you did,” he pressed on past his discomfort. He felt that he owed it to the friendship.  
   
“You do?” the engineer asked, looking even warier.  
   
_Oh, God,_  he thought, suddenly alarmed.  _Stop right there, Jules. You're heading into dangerous territory._  He was glad he had only had two glasses of spring wine before arriving. “Yes,” he said a little too quickly. “You saw it for the dangerous situation it was and saved me from my tendency to think like a doctor, even in tactical situations.”  
   
O'Brien grunted softly. “Well,” he said, “it's not like I enjoyed doin' that to you.”  
   
“I know,” he said, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he smiled. “So, we're OK again? On for darts and all that?”  
   
“If you like,” Miles said, returning the smile and seeming to relax. “It's been a little boring tryin' t' play on my own. Hasn't caught on like I hoped it would at Quark's.”  
   
“I know. I wonder why that is,” he speculated. “I suppose it doesn't matter.” He found himself lapsing quiet. Perhaps this truly hadn't been the best of ideas in his current mood. He felt restless, irritated, and more than a little put out, not just by Garak but by how often Leeta sent him packing instead of letting him stay. Garak was wrong; he was sure of it. Leeta wasn't worried about him as competition. If she felt any strange distance between herself and Julian, it was something else, something worse. He sighed.  
   
Miles sipped his coffee and tilted his head. “What's got a bee in your bonnet tonight?”  
   
“Leeta wanted to have Garak to dinner. I wound up being late,” he said glumly.  
   
Miles winced. “How bad was it? He had her in tears by the time you got there, didn't he?”  
   
“No,” he said. “They got along famously. It was...disturbing,” he added, widening his eyes.  
   
“You'd better watch that,” the engineer advised, shaking a thick finger at him. “Nothin' worse than an ex an' a current gettin' all cozy. That's trouble. When that ex is Garak, I shouldn't have to tell you how much worse that can be.”  
   
“Dax seems to think I'm still carrying a torch for him,” he said, testing the waters.  
   
“Bollocks,” Miles snorted.  
   
He knew that was meant to make him feel better, yet it didn't. He believed that the only reason Miles said or believed such was because of how much he disliked Garak and simply didn't want Julian to be with him. He scowled without realizing it.  
   
“What?” Miles asked, sitting forward and setting his mug on the coffee table. “Y' mean she's right?”  
   
“What? No, of course not!” he protested.  
   
“Then why the sour face?” he demanded.  
   
“I know you don't like him. I wish...I just wish things weren't always so complicated,” he said, exasperated. “Dax and Garak should just mind their own business.”  
   
“What'd Garak do?” he asked.  
   
“Forget I said anything. I'm just making things worse. I came here to patch things up with you, not to dump my relationship woes in your lap.”  
   
“Are you kidding? As much as you listen t' me belly achin' about Keiko, I feel like I owe you,” Miles said, chuffing a laugh.  
   
“You love her,” he said a bit wistfully.  
   
“Of course I do. She's my wife,” he said, sounding almost defensive for a moment, as though he was invested in convincing either Julian or himself of the fact.  
   
“I wish...I wish I loved someone like that,” Julian said with a sigh.  _I wish that I could._  It was a perpetual conundrum, his craving for intimacy at war with his inability to maintain it. Secrets such as his didn't allow room for the sort of commitment Miles exhibited toward Keiko, even with his divided loyalties.  
   
“When you're ready for it, it'll come to you,” Miles reassured him. “You're a good man. You just have other priorities right now. There's nothin' wrong with that.”  
   
“I suppose,” he said. He decided that he had imposed enough on his friend for one night. Spreading misery wasn't something he ever wanted to develop as a habit. “I think I'm heading to bed. It has been a long day in more ways than one.”  
   
Miles nodded and stood with him, draping a casual arm across his shoulders, or was it so casual? Julian couldn't be sure. He walked with him toward the door. “I think you'll feel better in th' morning with some sleep under your belt,” he said. “Don't let Dax get t' you. She's too nosy for her own good. Ultimately, you're th' one who decides what's goin' on in your life, not people on th' outside lookin' in. If you knew how many people constantly predicted that me 'n Keiko were on the verge of divorce, you'd see how ridiculous that sort of gossip really is.”  
   
Julian decided not to tell him that sometimes he was one of those people who felt that way. The only difference was that he respected Miles enough to keep his mouth shut about it. He gave him a closed lipped smile and clapped him on the back. “You're right,” he said. “Sorry for awakening you.”  
   
The Irishman smiled and clapped him back. “Door's always open t' you. You know that. Night, Julian.”  
   
“Good night,” he said, stepping out and not feeling any better whatsoever. He was being selfish using Miles like that, taking advantage of how he felt so that he could dump his problems on him any time he was out of sorts and no one else was available. It didn't matter that the engineer was sincere when he said it wasn't an imposition. He knew in his heart of hearts that someone who was just a friend and nothing more wouldn't put up with that behavior from him, not to the frequency and extent that Miles did. “You're a lousy friend,” he muttered to himself, heading back to his empty quarters at last. He had nowhere else to go.  
   
Over the next several days, he tried to put some of the concerns raised by the dinner behind him without too much success. It didn't help matters at all that suddenly Garak and Leeta were seeing quite a bit of each other. True, it usually involved Rom, too, the three of them taking lunch or simply spending a little time in the Replimat before Leeta and Rom had to go to work. Rom's presence made him feel as though he couldn't join them, even when he had time to spare. It was no secret that the Ferengi didn't like him. He tolerated Rom's thinly veiled hostility only because he was Leeta's friend, and he knew that the two of them openly at odds would stress her more than she already was from her work environment. What was Garak about? He couldn't accept the situation at face value. There was no way that Garak had just suddenly decided that someone he always claimed to find a little vapid was stimulating company after all. Leeta's attitude toward him hadn't changed, though. She wasn't behaving strangely or secretively. No, whatever Garak was doing, it wasn't direct sabotage. Probably.  
   
At least Dax had let up on nagging him about his relationship. Perhaps she truly did feel bad about making him angry, or perhaps she was simply gathering more ammunition before trying to come at him from a different angle. With her it was always so difficult to tell. Sometimes she could be doggedly focused to the point it bordered on obsession. She would then be just as quick to drop something never to mention it again. He had come to chalk these tendencies up to the mystery that was Jadzia Dax.  
   
Her magic tricks in Quark's bar one night took him by delighted surprise. He never knew when he'd get to see yet another facet of past hosts surfacing in her mercurial nature. He rightly guessed the influence to be that of Tobin, the quiet, socially awkward host Miles had briefly hosted during the ritual. Unfortunately, Sisko called her away before he could see more sleights of hand, the results of which left Quark confused and irritated, always a plus.  
   
He watched the Ferengi bartender pick at his ear for nearly a half hour, likely in the hopes of finding another slip of latinum. He would never tell Jadzia that he could follow what she had done with her hands or how he had seen it all. That would reveal his own brand of prestidigitation.  _No good magician ever reveals his tricks,_  he thought, some of his good mood slipping.  
   
Dax returned to the bar, looking much more subdued than when she left. She seemed to debate with herself before coming over to join him again. All thoughts of his own issues fled at the sight of the expression on her face. He leaned his head close to hers when she arrived, murmuring, “What is it?” She shot a quick glance at Quark. He seemed distracted. That was no guarantee that he actually was. Julian understood instantly. She didn't want him overhearing. Settling a hand lightly to the small of her back, he led her away from the bar and walked her over to an empty table. They sat so close together, their knees touched.  
   
She glanced around again before speaking. “There's a science mission coming here from Trill,” she said softly, a distant look in her pale blue eyes and her fingers laced loosely on the table top, twisting and fidgeting. She glanced at Julian. “One of the team members used to be my wife. Torias' wife,” she corrected herself quickly. “Khan was the symbiont of Torias' wife.”  
   
He thought of what he knew of Trill society and the strict laws guiding associations formed in the past. “Oh,” he said, concerned. He covered both of her hands with one of his own. “Are you going to be all right? Do you think you should...I don't know, take some time off while they're here?”  
   
She smiled slightly, twisting one of her hands beneath his so that it was palm up and she could give him a light squeeze. “Benjamin gave the same offer,” she said. “I'll be OK. The news just took me by surprise.”  
   
“Are you sure?” he asked. He didn't know how much attachments carried from life to life, but he had to imagine it could be problematic if they had developed an entire codex of laws to govern the situation. “What...happens if the two of you...you know. Get close again?”  
   
“We'd be exiled from Trill,” she said simply, meeting his gaze.  
   
He jerked slightly, taken aback. “But if that happened...”  
   
“Yes,” she said. “Both symbionts would die when we died.” She paused and gave him a softer smile. “Which is why you don't have to worry. I'm not stupid. I have no intention of throwing my life, Dax's life, away over this. It may be awkward and a little painful, but I'll handle it.”  
   
He gave her a searching look. “Well,” he said finally, “if you need someone to talk to, you know I'll be here for you.”  
   
“Yes, I do,” she said, standing suddenly and leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I have a little research to do before calling it a night. Thank you, Julian. I'll see you in the morning.”  
   
He watched her walk away, his stomach slightly tight with vague anxiety. He hoped that she was right about her ability to handle the situation. After seeing how quickly she could fall in love when the conditions were right, he was far from certain, himself.  _Fall in love with anyone but you,_  he thought a little glumly. He wondered if he would ever fully get over his attraction to her any more than he would his attraction to Garak.  _Always drawn to the people most likely to see right through you,_  he thought.  _Where's the logic in that?_  He shook his head and stood, tired of the bar noise and ready for bed. It would be much better to sleep than to stew. Stewing just got him into trouble.

**Part II**

_Garak  
Replimat Café_  
   
Garak watched Julian pick at his food, pushing it around the plate more than anything. It wasn't like him not to wolf his lunch down. He took a small, neat bite of his stew, chewed thoroughly, and washed it down with some tea. “It's already dead,” he said helpfully.  
   
“I beg your pardon?” Julian lifted his gaze quickly, looking almost startled.  
   
“The food,” Garak elaborated. “If you're checking it for signs of life, you're going to be disappointed. Had you wanted Klingon cuisine, you should have said something before we sat down for lunch.” He gave him his most helpful smile.  
   
The doctor's smile was slow to come, but when it did, it showed genuine amusement. “I'm sorry,” he said ruefully. “I'm miserable company today, aren't I?”  
   
“You've been more entertaining in the past,” Garak conceded. “Fortunately for you, I am not one in need of nonstop stimulation and delight. Is there something you'd like to discuss? I'm quite at your disposal.”  
   
“It's not really mine to discuss,” he said reluctantly. “It's Dax.”  
   
“Ah,” Garak said with a single nod. “Yes, the plot continues to thicken in that situation, the long parted spouses growing ever closer.”  
   
“How did you...” Julian started to ask then set his fork down. “Never mind. I ought to know better by now than to ask you how you know anything. One, you won't tell me the truth, and two, you always have had an eye for all of the important happenings. I'm really worried about her.”  
   
_And you call me the liar?_  Garak thought archly. Oh, he had no doubt that Julian was concerned. However, he didn't believe for a moment that it was strictly concern for Dax that had his young table mate so tied in a knot. “I'm surprised that you're not more...entertained,” he said, being deliberately confrontational.  
   
“Entertained by my friend's confusion and emotional distress? Since when have you known me ever to be that way, Garak?” he asked crossly.  
   
“You're so enamored of tales of star crossed lovers,” he replied reasonably. “You must admit that such a situation would be tasty fodder for that Shakespeare of yours.”  
   
“This isn't some fictional play. These are real people in real pain. There's a tremendous difference,” he said hotly.  
   
“As you say,” Garak conceded.  
   
“You're provoking me,” the doctor said suddenly, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”  
   
_He has come such a long way,_  he thought with no small degree of pride. “What about the situation actually has you worried, Doctor?” he replied with a question of his own. “Are you afraid that Dax will give in to forbidden desire, or that she won't?”  
   
Julian opened his mouth and shut it again, looking like nothing so much as a surprised fish suddenly hooked from the comfort of his watery abode and unceremoniously plopped into the bottom of a boat. “I...don't want to see her hurt,” he said a little weakly.  
   
“Yet you already concede that the situation is a painful one,” he said. “Does it make sense to worry about that which exists and cannot be controlled? As a Trill, surely this is not the first time that Dax has found herself confronted by such a situation. How many lifetimes has she led now? She has navigated them successfully, or she would not be here.” He eyed Julian keenly, his laser focus unwavering.  
   
The doctor squirmed under the scrutiny. “What I think doesn't matter,” he said.  
   
Garak felt an inward twitch of irritation. Julian was better than that. Such equivocation was for those of lesser intellect. “I'm relieved to hear you say that,” he said sharply. “Perhaps you can focus on better, more appropriate lunch conversation, then?”  
   
The man's tawny skin flushed slightly, anger, Garak could tell, not embarrassment. “I wasn't aware my preoccupation was such an imposition on your time,” he said a bit tightly.  
   
“If it's not even important enough for you to state what you really think, why should I find it an appropriate use of my company?” Garak retorted. “Gone are the days that you are my sole choice for companionship. You're going to have to do more than simply show up if you plan to keep me engaged.” Julian winced. He knew he had scored a point on him. He didn't like resorting to such below the belt swipes, but the man was being ridiculously obtuse. Garak had to wonder if Julian was working to hide his thoughts from him or if he was truly self-deluded into thinking that Dax was his sole concern in all of this. 

“That wasn't...fair,” the doctor said. “You know I don't want to be your only friend. You sounded like Decla just now, and I'd think that was beneath you.”  
   
Garak shrugged off the pathetic attempt at a barb. If the doctor actually thought such comparisons would phase him, he had truly lost touch with who Garak was, or depressingly, maybe he had never really known. “What's beneath me is meaningless small talk and gossip about individuals who are more than capable of taking care of themselves. I could get that from Quark. In fact I do at times, and from Quark, I don't find it galling. I have no reason to expect more,” he said rather pointedly.  
   
“Where is this hostility coming from?” Julian asked, obviously losing patience.  
   
It didn't matter. Garak had lost patience, too. He gave an ironic laugh. “If you were simply hiding things from me, I might actually find it flattering, but it bores me to tears to see a man lying to himself. I find myself with a sudden lack of appetite. I hope you decide to be better company at dinner later this week.” He stood and gathered his tray.  
   
Julian narrowed his eyes. “With the way you're acting right now, I'm rethinking dinner altogether.”  
   
“Then Leeta and I shall miss you,” Garak said, “but I'm certain we'll have a lovely time.” Of course, it didn't occur to him that Julian would actually skip out on the invitation. He was certain the man didn't like the idea of him and Leeta having dinner alone in Garak's quarters. It wasn't jealousy. No, he suspected that Julian wondered what his motivation was and worried that the two of them were conspiring in some way. The fact that he was half right was beside the point.  
   
_Julian  
Quark's Bar_  
   
_What are you doing?_  Julian asked himself for the millionth time in one night, it seemed. Dax and Doctor Khan had been talking non-stop ever since they had arrived for dinner. He wondered if Leeta had followed through with her angry threat to have dinner with Garak anyway, despite his backing out at the last minute. His admission that he was doing it as a favor for Dax did nothing to smooth things over. It had made things worse.  
   
_You really put your foot in it,_  he thought. Why had he believed that being Dax's friend would somehow make Leeta immune from being jealous of his own friendship with the Trill? Had he done much in the way of giving her a reason to feel more secure about it? He knew he spent a great deal of his free time with Dax, but that was largely because Leeta was working when he had time off and vice versa.  _I'm not jealous of Rom or Garak,_  he thought a little angrily.  _Is that the same, though? She has never professed an attraction to either of them the way I have to Dax._  Why had he felt so compelled to tell Leeta all about his unrequited crush some time ago, before the two of them got serious enough for such a thing to take on a different context in her mind? He regretted the late night confessionals. Some things were best kept to oneself, particularly when it came to a potential romantic interest.  
   
He had stopped even trying to pretend that he was part of the conversation between the two Trill scientists. They were so busy traipsing down memory lane and catching up with about one hundred years of separation that he imagined he could set his hair on fire and they'd barely skip a beat. Dax didn't need him there. Not really. To outward appearances at least, the two of them weren't treading on dangerous or inappropriate territory. He knew it was more for appearance's sake that he had been asked along. On one hand, he was glad to be able to do Dax a favor. On the other, it was a costly favor that neither Leeta nor Garak would be quick to allow him to live down. Dax hadn't even given him a chance to explain that to her. She had just seemed to assume that whatever he intended could be set aside.  _Of course she assumed that,_  he thought dryly. You've never given her any reason to believe that when she says, '”Jump,” you won't ask, “How high?” Even tonight.  
   
Before his grim thoughts could take him further into a bad place, his comm badge chirped. “Infirmary to Doctor Bashir,” the night duty nurse's voice cut through the crowd noise of the second level of the bar.  
   
“Bashir here, go ahead,” he said, concerned that it might be something to do with Ensign Powers. He wasn't recovering as quickly as he ought to be, an opportunistic infection interfering with the healing process.  
   
“I'm sorry to disturb you, Doctor, but Ensign Tyler's broken his leg, and I think you should...”  
   
“I'm on my way,” he said, glad of the excuse to duck out of deadly dull chaperon duty and also glad that it was something less serious than he anticipated. At that rate, he might actually even make it to Garak's quarters in a timely enough fashion to see if Leeta was actually there or not and perhaps do a little damage control. “Sorry,” he said to both women, “but duty calls.”  
   
“It's all right,” Dax said with a smile. “Thanks for coming.”  
   
“Nice to see you again,” Doctor Khan added.  
   
He favored them both with a perfunctory smile and beat his retreat. What was it with ensigns getting hurt this week? This was the third one so far.  
   
_Garak  
Private Quarters_  
   
Lighting a final taper at the center of the dining table, Garak called a cordial, “Enter,” when his door chime rang. He turned, fully expecting to see Leeta and Julian step into his quarters, only to see Leeta entering alone, the look in her eyes snapping fire.  
   
“Hello, Garak,” she said, holding out a gift basket to him that contained a bottle of blue kanar and a few mysterious boxes that likely concealed sweets of some sort. “Julian couldn't make it tonight. He decided he'd rather have dinner with Dax and Lenara. I'd have sent word, except I only just found out about it an hour ago.”  
   
He had never seen her so angry. He felt an echo of it rising in himself. “I see,” he said, a certain fixed quality to his gaze.  
   
The two of them held the eye contact for several moments, understanding and solidarity passing between them. She broke it first. “I think I'd actually like a glass of that kanar if you don't mind,” she said tightly.  
   
“Of course,” he said, lifting it and fetching two glasses. He poured generous servings and offered her one. She worked in a bar. He didn't think he needed to warn her of the drink's potency or its effect on non-Cardassians. “You look lovely this evening,” he said, inclining his head. “Thank you for coming. Dining alone when one is expecting company is...unpleasant.”  
   
“Backing out of a dinner invitation at the last minute is beyond rude,” she said, “when it's not because of a work emergency.” She downed half of her glass' contents, her eyes watering from the strength of the liquor. “I actually used some of my time off for this. Do you have any idea how long you have to work for Quark before you get any time off?”  
   
“I can imagine,” he said.  
   
She looked past him at the table with the covered dishes arranged aesthetically and invitingly. “You ordered this food, didn't you?” she asked. “I mean...ordered it from a freighter. I know we didn't cater this, and replicated food doesn't smell nearly that delicious.”  
   
He was surprised that she could tell. It pleased him to have his efforts noticed, despite his anger at Julian. “Yes,” he said.  
   
“That...jerk,” she said, looking at him again, her expression equal parts anger and apology. “I am so sorry about this.”  
   
He shook his head, making the decision to set his anger aside for the time being. He had no intention of punishing Leeta for something that wasn't her fault or doing. “Please,” he said, “not another word about that. I don't hold you responsible, and I am happy to have you here. Would you like to have a seat?”  
   
She nodded. “I would. Thank you.” She allowed him to guide her to one of the chairs and serve her from the various dishes. “Where did all of this come from?” she asked curiously. “I don't think I've ever seen most of this before.”  
   
“Most of the food tonight is Andorian,” he said. “It has been a very long time since I had Andorian cuisine. I discovered that there was a ship coming our way with some surplus they needed to sell before it spoiled. It was a happy coincidence, as I don't think you would have enjoyed being subjected to my Cardassian dishes.”  
   
She waited for him to serve himself and settle in before continuing the conversation. “I have a hard time imagining you doing anything badly,” she said with a sincere smile. “Not all Cardassian food is bad. I actually like zabo steak.”  
   
She was so different from the major, from almost any Bajoran he had ever met with a rare few exceptions in his customer base. Why had he ever believed her to be shallow or lacking in intelligence?  _Because you never looked past the Dabo girl costume or her pretty face,_  he told himself, knowing it to be true and having enough decency to feel bad at having made the judgment. “It's very tender when cooked properly,” he agreed.  
   
“Do you think he loves Dax?” she blurted, blushing and looking down into her kanar glass.  
   
He only just avoided the temptation to take it away from her. If she was already asking him such questions, the drink was undoubtedly going to her head. “I don't know,” he hedged, reluctant to hurt her. That in and of itself was so novel he had to ask himself why. It was likely because he had a genuine weakness for truly decent people. Tain would have laughed. He didn't care. The world was wider and more complex than the spy master had ever considered. He refused to feel shamed.  
   
“Yes, you do,” she said darkly, her brown eyes glittering and reflecting candle light.  
   
“The trouble with Julian,” he said carefully, not wanting to look into those large, dark eyes and yet not able to look away, “is that he always most wants that which he believes he can't have. I believe it's a failing in many human males.”  
   
She nodded slowly and took a small sip of her kanar. “Not just human males,” she said a bit dryly. “Sometimes I wonder if I'm...this sounds so awful...if I'm wasting my time. Did you ever feel that way with him? Prophets, I shouldn't be asking you this.”  
   
_Don't scare her,_  he told himself, fully aware of just how intense he could be when something he had been after was suddenly presented to him. He dropped his gaze so that she wouldn't see the gleam in his eyes. “At times it was difficult for me to ascertain what he wanted,” he said. “I was never sure if the failing was in me or him.”  
   
“I'm so glad you said that,” she said a little too loudly. “Sometimes it's almost like he's a different person from day to day, or...even minute to minute. I think I'm getting somewhere with him, and suddenly, he's gone. I mean, he's still there with me, but not up here.” She tapped her temple with a slim finger.  
   
_Intriguing,_  he thought. So it truly wasn't just him. He was too interested in what he was hearing to feel much in the way of satisfaction or relief about that. He knew he wasn't easy to live with. Even if this particular aspect of their relationship hadn't been his fault, there was plenty more that was. This wasn't about blame. It was about piecing together the puzzle that had eluded him for such a long time now. “I know exactly what you mean,” he said.  
   
She took a few bites of the food, mulling as she chewed. “This whole time, I've been thinking it's me,” she said. “That I'm not...smart enough.” She hazarded a quick glance at him, her cheeks coloring a deeper red. “I know I'm no scientist, nothing even close in comparison to him or Dax, or to you for that matter, but if he was that way with you...”  
   
“My dear, you're something I could never be,” he said gently, moved by her distress. “Open. I always thought it was because I wasn't open enough.”  
   
They looked at one another across the table and again found they had an area of understanding. Garak felt another stirring of anger. Just who did Julian think he was, treating those closest to him like there was some failing within them that kept him from being able to love them the way that he professed he wanted to? No, damn it, if he truly wanted to, he would, so he must not want what he so often said he wanted. What did that mean? It didn't make sense in any context Garak could ascertain.  
   
“I'm sorry I brought up something hurtful,” she said. “I really shouldn't be prying like this, or...dumping my problems with Julian on you. It's very thoughtless of me.”  
   
“Don't apologize,” he said. “It has been enlightening.”  
   
She nodded agreement and sighed. “Let's talk about something else. This is too depressing. I'm already angry with him for leaving us in the lurch. Finding out that whatever is wrong with him probably has nothing to do with me isn't helpful. I can't do anything about it.”  
   
“But you can,” he said, pinning her suddenly with his gaze. “You can decide what you really want and move from there.”  
   
She nodded again and polished off her kanar. “My head will hate me for this in the morning, but would you please pour me another glass?”  
   
_Julian  
The Infirmary_  
   
He should have known that it was a bad break if his night nurse in charge felt it important enough for him to come. Setting the compound fracture properly took longer than he would have liked. Now that he had the unfortunate ensign set up with the bone regenerator, he felt that he was free to leave the young man to spend the night there. “Computer,” he said on his way out, “where is Leeta?”  
   
“Leeta is on Habitat Level H-3, Chamber 901,” the voice intoned.  
   
So she had carried through her threat, gone to dinner at Garak's without him. The thought bothered him a little, worse when he realized how late it was, close to midnight. Did they actually get along so well now that they could spend almost four hours alone together? Did he even want to insert himself into that situation? Doubtless, both of them would be angry with him, not without good reason. Wouldn't it be better to face their wrath individually rather than collectively?  
   
“Ridiculous,” he said to himself, stepping into the turbolift. Tonight or tomorrow, it wouldn't matter. This was going to be unpleasant. He may as well get it over with. Perhaps he could get Leeta to leave with him in fairly short order, so he'd only receive a bit of Garak's temper that night. It didn't help that he was tired and out of sorts thanks to being ignored by Dax and Doctor Khan. He felt used.  
   
He squared his shoulders once he faced Garak's door and pressed the chime. “Enter,” came Garak's smooth voice. The door hissed open, and he stepped inside only to find Garak seated on his sofa with a PADD and a kanar glass and Leeta nowhere to be seen.  
   
“Oh,” he said, feeling awkward. “I...the computer said that Leeta was here. Did I just miss her?”  
   
“She is here,” Garak said without looking up from the PADD.  
   
“In the washroom?” he asked, lacing his fingers behind his back so that he wouldn't fidget with his hands.  
   
“In my bed,” the Cardassian answered evenly. “I would thank you kindly not to disturb her. She had a bit much kanar and only just managed to fall asleep without becoming ill.”  
   
“Oh,” he said again, unsure of what to say. “Is she...upset?”  
   
“As I said, she is asleep,” the tailor replied, “so I rather doubt it.”  
   
He bit back an angry retort.  _What were you expecting, a warm welcome?_  “Was she upset?” he clarified, really hating it when Garak retreated to playing the overly specific game.  
   
“No,” he said, at last lowering the PADD to his lap and looking up at Julian “I managed to take her mind off of the situation. Believe it or not, Doctor, some people actually find my company enjoyable.” He polished off his kanar in an easy swallow and set his glass aside. “I'm afraid it's very late. I was just about to try to get some sleep, myself. I can assure you that I will be certain that Leeta is not late for work tomorrow. It's my understanding that Quark expects her in early since she took this evening off.”  
   
The tailor was pulling out all the stops. He ground his teeth quietly. “I'm sorry for canceling plans at the last minute.”  
   
Garak stood. “Don't trouble yourself,” he said. “You warned me that you were considering just such a thing. If I didn't heed you, I have no one but myself to blame.”  
   
He wanted to face palm. He had forgotten that he had said anything to that effect in the heat of the moment a few days before. “I didn't mean it. Not really. I was angry, but this had nothing to do with that.”  
   
“I'm sure your reasoning is simply fascinating. I am too tired to wish to listen to it. Now, if you'll excuse me, please? I would like to make a bed for myself on the couch.”  
   
It was useless to try to argue when Garak was in this mode. The wall of overly polite refusal would not give way to reasoning or railing. In many ways, this was far worse than the berating he had been expecting. He worried about Leeta waking up the next day, possibly disoriented and confused, and being embarrassed at having fallen asleep in Garak's bed. Drunk. Because of him. He didn't have to be a mind reader to know that much. She almost never got drunk. “I could have Leeta beamed into her room,” he offered.  
   
“And have her think I asked you to rid me of her?” Garak shook his head. “No. Leave her alone.” He narrowed his eyes, a slightly malicious gleam in the blue. “What are you worried about?”  
   
He sighed, defeated. There was no way to answer that question without giving Garak ample ammunition to eviscerate him with sarcasm. By that look in his eyes, he knew that he would the moment he gave him the opening. “Not a thing,” he said, taking a step back and turning to leave. “Thank you for taking care of her. Again, I apologize for this evening. Good night, Garak.”  
   
Garak inclined his head, a perfectly Cardassian gesture that revealed nothing at all. Oh, but that hooded look beneath his lids boded trouble. Julian knew that his discomfort that night was just the beginning of what the tailor likely had in store. He didn't even want to think of Leeta's reaction. All he knew for certain was that he had best avoid her while she had a hangover.  _Thanks a lot, Dax,_  he thought bitterly, knowing all the while that he truly had no one to blame but himself.  
   
He tossed and turned in his own bed for most of the remainder of the night, finally dozing off a couple of hours before he had to be up and ready for work. The morning dragged, both due to exhaustion and his knowledge that nothing at all had been resolved. By lunch he decided that it was likely enough time had passed that Leeta's hangover would either be gone or manageable. He asked the computer her whereabouts, only to discover she was already at the bar.  _Garak mentioned she'd have to go in early,_  he thought. He hadn't realized how early.  
   
He took lunch alone in the Replimat, half expecting Garak to make an appearance. The tailor never did. As he watched people going about their business on the Promenade, he found himself slightly envious of some of the aliens' more nomadic lifestyles. Wouldn't things be much simpler if he could move from place to place, preventing anyone from ever getting too close or even wanting to? In choosing Deep Space Nine, he thought that he had picked a perfect hiding place, from Starfleet, from his fiancée's pleas to return, from his parents' overbearing mannerisms and expectations. He thought no one would look twice at a naïve, somewhat goofy doctor who was a little socially awkward and chased women without ever catching most of them. He hadn't counted on running into people like Garak and Dax. He hadn't considered that going into hiding would be far lonelier than he imagined or that his own needs and desires would twist him in unexpected ways.  
   
At the time that the relationship started, Leeta seemed like a refuge from his complications and pain with Garak. She was everything the Cardassian was not: open, readily kind, considerate, straightforward, and even somewhat simple. Why had he believed that just because she wasn't complicated and devious that she wasn't perceptive? Why did he always fool himself into believing that this time things would work?  
   
He knew the signs. He had done this dance enough that it was impossible not to recognize them, the probing questions and looks, the suspicions, the accusations of distance, secrecy, all the more damning because they were true as true could be. Just a few months into the relationship, it was already starting. Now there was Garak to contend with. Who knew what Garak was putting in her head, or why? He had gone from being pleasant to confrontational recently, probing in the same way he did when they were together, only now he was much harder to distract or put off. What was Garak gleaning from Leeta? He wanted to put a stop to the association, but he knew that if he even tried, it would instantly make both of them more suspicious, not less.  
   
He jabbed at his food without much appetite. Last night was a disaster of such enormous magnitude he didn't know where to start to try to mend the rifts. He knew Garak well enough to know that his stonewalling the night before concealed at least some degree of hurt, in addition to wounded Cardassian pride and violated sense of propriety. Garak took invitations to his quarters and to others' very seriously. Julian's last minute scrapping of the plans was both personal and cultural insult that he knew Garak took even more personally because he knew that Julian was aware of the customs.  
   
Leeta was like most Bajoran women he had met, not at all a pushover and very quick to make her displeasure known when she felt insulted or belittled. Not only had she likely viewed his sudden change of plans as a rude breach of etiquette, but also as a message that Dax was more important to him.  _What if it's true?_  he wondered. Did he have the right to pursue Leeta when he wasn't willing to make her his first priority? He had pretty much accepted the fact that he and Dax would never be more than friends. It didn't make him value or love her any less.  
   
He rubbed both hands down his face and stared at his congealing food. What to do now? How to make this up to either of them? He wouldn't be allowed to have a personal conversation with Leeta while she was working. He didn't want to get her fired, and he knew that was exactly what Quark would do if he caught so much as a whiff of suspicion that Leeta was using work time for personal pursuits.  
   
That left Garak. He also knew from long experience that the longer he allowed something to fester with Garak, the more resistant to reconciliation the Cardassian became. There was no way that Garak was going to approach him first. He stood and took his tray to the recycler, dumping it and the uneaten food, and made his way to the tailor's shop.  
   
Garak glanced up from his position behind his counter, his expression instantly shifting from shop keeper solicitousness to an unreadable mask. “Do you have a rip in your uniform or a commission you would like to request?” he asked, his tone oddly flat.  
   
“No,” Julian said. “I...”  
   
Garak cut him off. “Then I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I'm working.”  
   
“Garak, please,” he said, not liking the plea in his own voice. “I just want to talk to you about last night.”  
   
The tailor graced him with a look that reminded him of a stern uncle, using his physicality and age to excellent effect. “This is neither the time nor the place for such a discussion. I trust you don't intend to force me to embarrass both of us by getting security involved?”  
   
He knew this was no mere threat, and he also knew that the fact that Garak would mention involving a third party meant that he was very angry indeed. “When would be a good time, and where could we meet?” he asked, doing his best not to sound offended.  
   
“After work, if you wish, you may walk me to my quarters,” he said. “I trust you'll make good use of that time. You are not welcome to join me once I get there.”  
   
He nodded. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than being told Garak would be busy or otherwise occupied for the next year or so. “I'll see you then,” he said, fervently hoping that no medical emergencies arose. While Garak was normally understanding about work delays, he felt he was on a very short rope this time around.  
   
To the best of his ability, he set aside his concerns for the rest of the afternoon. Ensign Tyler had been released that morning with the instruction to take it easy for a day or two on the newly mended leg. Ensign Powers was responding to the antibiotic, but slowly. Julian spent much of the rest of his work day checking him for any other underlying medical conditions that might make him prone to such infections or explain the resistance to the drug. It was a mystery he still hadn't managed to solve by the time he knew Garak would be getting off work.  
   
He gave the young man reassurances that he was doing well and that, hopefully, his stay in the infirmary wouldn't last much longer, updated his night nurse on everything that had happened during the day, and left so that he could catch Garak as he closed. Instead of entering the shop, for he had a distinct feeling that he was not welcome, he waited just outside. When Garak stepped out and keyed the lock, Julian joined him at his side.  
   
“I know I insulted you,” he said carefully. “I also know that anything I say regarding the reason why is going to sound like an excuse. Perhaps it is an excuse. I made a decision to prioritize a request from Dax over our dinner arrangements, not because I thought I would enjoy myself more with her and Doctor Khan, but because...she was worried enough to make the request, so it worried me.”  
   
Garak inhaled deeply enough that Julian saw his nostrils flare slightly. He didn't respond to this, although by his posture and the way he held his head, Julian could tell he was at least listening. He seemed to expect to hear more.  
   
“If she...missteps with this woman...both of them could be exiled from Trill, and their respective symbionts will die. As her friend, how can I sit back and not help her? Garak, if I thought your life was in danger, I'd go to great lengths to save you, no questions asked. Is it so terrible that I'd do the same for others I love?”  
   
“Love,” the tailor snorted, coming to a halt to wait for the turbolift. “You use that word a great deal. I wonder if you know what it means.”  
   
“That's really hurtful, Garak,” he said, frowning.  
   
“Shall I tell you of hurtful?” he asked, eying him from beneath the flare of his eye ridges, a flash of blue in a sea of gray. “All the people in your life who care for you, scrambling to arrange themselves to the proper configuration to capture and retain your interest. Some of us not open enough. Some of us not smart enough. Those of us with enough dignity not to want to mold, twist, and turn to your every demand find ourselves watching you retreat.” He stepped onto the turbolift.  
   
Julian found himself suddenly reluctant to follow, every word a lash. However, he did. “I don't understand what you mean,” he lied.  
   
Garak smiled without humor. “I believe you do. Of course, Dax is different. She's safe. She doesn't want you.”  
   
“That has nothing to do with...”  
   
Garak held up a hand. “My dear Doctor, it has everything to do with this. And for the record, you are a complete idiot. You're going to let a woman who genuinely loves you and is worthy of your generous and kind nature slip right through your fingers. I can see that as plainly as the hair on your head. What I can't see is why.”  
   
He had been expecting barbs, sarcasm, and convoluted logic. He hadn't expected what amounted to some of the most brutal honesty he had ever received, not just from the tailor but from anyone. Every time he thought he finally understood how Garak operated, the tailor changed the rules and how he played the game. He didn't know what to say to that. It ached so much to hear it laid out in black and white that he wasn't sure he'd trust his voice, anyway.  
   
“You want my forgiveness? For all it matters, you have it,” Garak said with a shrug.  
   
“What do you mean for all it matters?” he asked, somehow managing to make it sound normal.  
   
“I mean it doesn't change anything. Whether I'm angry with you or not, you're going to do what you do. Sometimes, I still even manage to enjoy your company. We have that,” he said. The turbolift dropped them off in the H-ring corridor.  
   
He wasn't sure how to take that. On an instinctive level, he found it upsetting. It sounded as though Garak was giving up something or perhaps just giving up on him. “It sounds as though you're saying it doesn't matter what I do. You've made up your mind about me, as though...you're just accepting some design flaw.” The tailor's smile cut him to the quick. That was exactly what he was saying.  _Flawed. I suppose the joke is on me. No matter how much tampering they did, they couldn't fix what was fundamentally broken._ He stopped walking. “I suppose I should be appreciative of your honesty,” he said. “It's so rare.”  
   
A few steps ahead of him, Garak stopped and turned to face him. “Careful, Doctor. Keep talking like that, and people will suspect you're bitter. You can't have that, can you?” He turned and started to walk again, his voice carrying over his shoulder, “If I were you, I'd try to talk to Leeta sooner than later, unless, of course, you're trying to drive her away. Good evening, Doctor.”  
   
Garak had managed to strike a part of him he thought he had shielded beyond reach. He was a teenager all over again, discovering that his parents had changed him because he wasn't good enough before. Even after the change, he wasn't good enough. He was just different. He made a strange, hiccuping sound and recognized it as the prelude to a sob. It took all of his control to clamp that down and push it away. What good would it do? Even if Garak heard him, came back, and felt inclined to be comforting, it wouldn't change a thing. He couldn't tell him the truth, and as long as the secret lay wedged between him and everything or everyone he wanted to touch, there would be no true closeness, no rest from the burden. Was this truly why he couldn't let go of Dax, because she was one of the only safe loves he had ever had, the only one discerning enough to see him for the trap he was and keep her own distance?  
   
He retraced his steps down the corridor, stepped onto the turbolift, and had it carry him to Leeta's H-ring level. They both had access to one another's quarters. He decided that he would simply wait for her in hers rather than constantly have to check if she was off work yet or where she was. He keyed in the code, only to have the lights on the panel remain red. He keyed it a second time, although he knew he hadn't made a mistake the first time around. She had changed the code. “Great,” he muttered. Stubbornly, he turned his back to the wall, leaned against it, and slid down to a seat. He believed that if he retreated to his own quarters, she wouldn't give him a chance to come back. He hated what Garak had said to him about losing her, and he was determined to prove him wrong.  _I'm not broken, damn it,_  he thought fiercely.  
   
It was awkward being passed in the corridor by people who knew him at least on sight. He could tell by the curious looks they wondered what had happened, why he was sitting out there like that. It was physically uncomfortable, too, but he doggedly stuck to his plan. It was well after midnight, and the corridor had been empty and silent for hours before Leeta finally appeared, hobbling and carrying her heeled shoes in one hand by the straps. She stopped some distance from her door when she saw him. “It's late,” she said flatly. “I'm tired. Go home.”  
   
“I'm afraid if I do that, you won't let me come back,” he said, standing stiffly and taking a few steps toward her. “Can we please talk?”  
   
She brushed past him and punched in her new door code, heading inside. Since she didn't tell him to stay out or immediately close the door in his face, he followed. She tossed her shoes to the side, careless of where they landed, and crossed into her bedroom, stripping out of her Dabo costume in view of him and digging a pair of pajamas out of her dresser. He knew there was no attempt at seduction in her actions. Her posture and mannerisms said she was so tired and out of sorts, she simply didn't care if he was there to see or not. She leaned in her bedroom doorway with her arms folded tightly beneath her breasts.  
   
“I made a mistake last night,” he said. “I suppose if I'm being completely honest, not just last night. I... You're important to me. I know I don't always say so or act like it, but it's true. I hate that I hurt you or made you feel you're anything less than the amazing woman that you are.”  
   
“You talked to Garak,” she said, her voice still sounding flat, unimpressed.  
   
“You've made quite an impression on him,” he said. “He called me an idiot, and he was right.”  
   
“There's a switch, a Cardassian standing up for a Bajoran to a Starfleeter,” she said without a trace of humor.  
   
“Give me another chance, please?”  
   
“To do what? To blow me off for Dax? Give me one reason I ought to.”  
   
“I'm with you, not Dax,” he said, taking a step closer.  
   
“Funny. You don't act like it,” she retorted, unrelenting.  
   
“I can change my work schedule, start taking night shifts, at least part of the week. You have to admit that at least some of the problem is that we don't have a lot of time,” he said evenly. “I want more time to spend with you. I truly do.” He shrugged helplessly. “Dax...I'm just...it's so rare I can actually do anything useful for her. I'm worried sick for her safety, Leeta. It's not a matter of choosing her over you. If situations were reversed, don't you understand I'd go running straight to you without a second thought? It was the situation I was choosing, not Dax.”  
   
“I want to believe that,” she said, hurt creeping into her voice. “I really do, but every time I think I'm making progress with you, you go all distant again. Tonight you're here begging me for another chance. Tomorrow you're just as likely to get that look you get and bury yourself in some research. I'm trying as hard as I can.” She reached up quickly to wipe a tear away.  
   
“I know. There's nothing wrong with you.” He closed the rest of the distance between them and reached for her. She allowed him to embrace her, both of her arms tucked in and her hands resting curled against his chest. “It's hard for me sometimes. I'm trying, too.”  
   
She rested her cheek against his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck. “Garak said you did the same thing to him,” she said.  
   
He closed his eyes. That hurt. So they had been talking about him. “He's not lying,” he said.  
   
“Don't be mad at him for saying it. He was trying to make me feel better, but it didn't. It means there really isn't anything I can do about this with you. It's not me. I can change me, or work with problems. I can't change you.”  
   
“I can,” he said, wanting to believe it. “Just...I'll try harder. I learned a lot about myself when I was with Garak. Things...were hard with us, but I want this to work. Please.”  
   
She pulled back a little so that she could look at him, her expression solemn. “I want this to work, too,” she said. “You're such an amazing man. You're not like anyone I've ever been with. Half the time, I can't even believe you're with me at all. I have to pinch myself.”  
   
“No,” he said, leaning to rest his forehead against hers. “Please, don't say that. You deserve every bit of love and happiness I can give you. I'm not better than you, or some prize. If you've been talking to Garak, then you ought to know that. I'm sure what he had to say wasn't all flattering.”  
   
“For someone so smart, you really are stupid,” she said a little cryptically, leaning up to kiss him, a lingering, somewhat sad kiss that she broke before it could become more. “If you want to stay, you can, but don't expect anything more than sleep. I've been up since ten this morning, had a positively sickening hangover, and a horrible double shift.”  
   
“Garak was quite the fierce protector last night,” he said, moving with her into her bedroom and starting to strip from his uniform. “I stopped by to try to patch things up. He was adamant that I leave you alone. I hope it wasn't too awkward this morning?”  
   
“Not at all,” she said, climbing into bed and watching him blearily. “He was a perfect gentleman and actually very kind this morning. You should be glad he's Cardassian,” she teased. “Otherwise, he'd be hard to resist.”  
   
He smiled slightly and climbed into the narrow bed with her, settling in. “You never have said much about the occupation or how you feel about Cardassians in general.”  
   
She stiffened slightly. “Nor will I. Please, don't take it personally. It's just that I prefer to look forward, not back. Garak...is very different from the Cardassians I knew. I'd like to leave it at that.”  
   
“Of course,” he said, pulling her close. “I won't ask again.” He waited a few moments for a reply, only to realize that she was already asleep. Exhaustion made him soon follow.

**Part III**

_Garak  
Replimat Café_  
   
Garak could tell that Rom was becoming unnerved by his steady gaze. Inside, he felt positively gleeful. Outwardly, he gave no sign of this, just quietly studied his table companion.  
   
Rom put down a half eaten chew grub and frowned at him. “You're making me nervous,” he accused. “What is it? Why do you keep looking at me like that?”  
   
“Oh,” the tailor said offhandedly, “it just occurred to me a few days ago that I've never really seen you before. Of course, I've looked at you, and you and I have had our share of lunches, dinners, and conversations over tea. However, the level...the depth, should I say...of your deviousness never revealed itself. It's fascinating. You hide it so very well.”  
   
The Ferengi waiter looked more unsettled. “I...I have no idea what you're talking about, Garak.”  
   
Garak laughed, delighted. “I'm sure you don't! How many schemes have I missed? What could I be speaking of in this moment? It's exciting, isn't it, when a game moves to a new level?”  
   
“Are you feeling all right?” Rom asked uncertainly. “I've told you before some of those pills you take make you act strange.”  
   
“Never felt better,” Garak replied, beaming. Eventually, he intended to let Rom off the hook and explain what he was talking about, but he was having entirely too much fun watching him squirm. It was the least he deserved for being so manipulative, and because he genuinely liked him, he had no intention of taking it too far or being hurtful. He was about to say more when a commotion from the direction of the docking ring caught both of their attention. Infirmary personnel hurried to help some of the wounded who could walk. A few others were carried.  
   
“Looks bad,” Rom said in a low voice. “Leeta said they had the Defiant out for some wormhole experiment.”  
   
“Yes, I heard,” Garak said, watching keenly. He saw Dax rush by, seemingly uninjured and supporting Doctor Khan.  _I'd say Julian's attempts to chaperon have been for naught,_  he thought, judging from Dax's expression. He turned away from the unfolding drama and back to his food. “At least they had the decency to attempt it away from the station. Can you imagine what such a thing could do here?”  
   
Rom shuddered. “I don't want to imagine it.” He picked up his abandoned chew grub and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Still,” he said a little wistfully, “it would be interesting to be involved in something like that. I wonder if they succeeded.”  
   
“I suppose that would depend upon how one measures success,” Garak said. “There's no reason you couldn't be involved in such things if you really wanted to be.”  
   
“Now you sound like Leeta,” Rom said, glancing at him.  
   
“I could be accused of worse things,” the tailor said, narrowing his eyes slightly. “You're quite close, aren't you?”  
   
“We're just friends,” he replied, looking glum.  
   
“Close friends,” Garak pressed.  
   
“I don't know if I'd say that,” Rom said, but he refused to meet Garak's gaze, seeming to have found something very fascinating on his plate.  
   
“What do you think Leeta would say?” the Cardassian asked.  
   
“You haven't talked to her about me, have you?” he asked, his voice raising in pitch with anxiety. Garak gave him his best mysterious smile. Rom looked horrified. “You...you stay out of that, Garak,” he said. “I mean it!”  
   
Garak took a serene bite of his food. “If you want something, you'll never get it by sitting passively to the side and hoping that it falls like a gift from the sky into your lap,” he said. “You have to work for it.”  
   
Rom studied him silently before asking, “Are you offering to help me, or are you just...toying with me? If you're toying, it's a terrible thing to do to a friend.”  
   
“You know, it's funny you should say that,” Garak said. “It brings to mind a time when you told me that someone was flirting with Leeta. Help me out, Rom. It has completely slipped my mind who.”  
   
Rom's face crumpled with guilt. “I'm sorry about that,” he blurted. “I...really was mad at him, and he really was flirting with her. I hoped that if I told you, you'd put a stop to it and get him away from her. It's not like I could ever compete with him, and I was right anyway. Now they're together, and it doesn't look like that's going to change any time soon. Unless you think you could do something about it.” He glanced up at him hopefully.  
   
Garak shook his head, no longer amused. Rom's utter passivity frustrated him. It made him want to grab him by the shoulders, shake him, and shout some sense into him. “No, you're on your own there.”  
   
“I know you still want to be with him,” Rom said sullenly.  
   
Garak sighed. “You're wrong. He's incapable of it, which coming from me has to be one of the most hilariously ironic statements in the known universe, and yet there it is. I've been accused at times of being overly stubborn; however, the fact is that I know when I've been defeated. No, Rom, trust me. You don't need me to help you win Leeta. All you need is to be patient, and be her friend. You'll know when the time is right to tell her how you feel.”  
   
“You're not mad at me?” Rom asked, seemingly unable to wrap his mind around the fact.  
   
“It is so rare that anyone truly takes me by surprise that when it happens, it's quite the novel experience. I won't underestimate you again,” he cautioned with a wave of his finger, a playful light in his eyes.  
   
Rom relaxed slightly. “I'd never be stupid enough to try something when you're on guard. Anyway, I hoped it was something both of us would benefit from, not just me.”  
   
“Another reason I'm not angry,” Garak conceded. Speaking of that time period depressed him. He didn't enjoy reminders of the break up. He watched some of the crew from the Defiant leave the infirmary and walk to Quark's. Nodding in their direction to indicate them, he said, “If you're curious about the wormhole experiment, there's your chance to find out. I'm sure they'll be eagerly discussing it and forget all about the size of Ferengi lobes.”  
   
Rom glanced in the direction he indicated, instantly becoming more animated. “You don't mind?” he asked. “I know we haven't finished lunch.”  
   
“I'm curious, myself,” he said, the lie coming easily. “But I'm certain they wouldn't say a word around me. You can tell me about it later.”  
   
“I will,” he said excitedly, jumping to his feet and taking his tray to dump. “Thanks, Garak, and...for what it's worth, I really am sorry for tricking you.”  
   
“No you're not,” he said, beaming at him fondly. “You're sorry I figured it out. Now go.” He watched him retreat, the smile fading. There had been a time in his life, not even so long ago, that he wouldn't have thought twice about scheming with Rom to break Julian and Leeta apart. So much had changed since then. He had changed, and no matter how lonely he was at times, he was no longer content to settle, not for anything or anyone who couldn't meet him where he was.  
   
He watched Dax leave the infirmary with a troubled look. She saw him watching, paused, and headed in his direction.  _This should be interesting,_  he thought, waiting until she was close to stand and incline his head to her pleasantly. “You weren't injured, I hope?” he said.  
   
She shook her head, hesitant in a way he had never seen her before. “I'm fine. Physically. I...have no idea why I came over here,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I guess I'm just... It was a close call back there. Lenara could have died. They...her brother didn't want me staying while Julian treated her. He worried it might be too taxing for her.”  
   
“Perhaps you'd like to sit?” he offered.  
   
She remained standing. “How do you let go of someone you love?” she asked, looking oddly young and vulnerable.  
   
He made a fist and held it out to her. “This isn't love, my dear,” he said. He then opened his hand, cupping it. “If it's the right time and a good fit, they stay. If it's not...” He gave a small wave of his hand and dropped it back to his side. “You once told me that when it came to Julian and me, I had to be the adult. Who's the adult in this?”  
   
She shook her head, her gaze pained. “I honestly don't know. I just know I don't want her to leave.”  
   
“Does she know that?” he asked.  
   
“I haven't come out and said it.”  
   
“Well, perhaps you should, if you're sure it's what you want. You have to know you can't make her stay, though,” he said.  
   
“There's something I've wanted to tell you for a while now,” she said, abruptly changing the subject. He tilted his head curiously, inviting her to speak her mind without interrupting her. “I...appreciate...the way you handled Julian's leaving. I know it had to be very hard on you. There was a time I really worried what you'd do to him. I don't worry about you that way anymore. I'm glad you worked through whatever it was that had you...not yourself.”  
   
“I am, too, Lieutenant Commander,” he said, uncomfortable with the intimate topic now that it had turned to him.  
   
She seemed to sense it, or perhaps she picked up on his formal use of her rank to address her. “I'm sure you hardly needed my approval,” she said with an uncomfortable laugh.  
   
“I know your concern in that situation was the doctor. I can't fault you for that,” he said. “If you'll indulge me, I'd like to say something of a more personal nature to you, too.”  
   
“Of course,” she said, nodding and settling a hand to the back of the chair in front of her.  
   
“I think you take his devotion for granted, if not occasionally outright use it to your own ends. I haven't decided whether this is conscious on your part or not. If it is, then shame on you. If it isn't, you need to consider it.”  
   
“I do no such thing!” she said hotly, her brows dipping downward.  
   
“Don't you?” he asked, meeting her gaze squarely and holding it. “Did you ever find out the other night what plans he had that you usurped? Did he tell you the outcome?”  
   
She frowned, some of her anger draining away. “No,” she admitted. “I didn't even think to. I was so absorbed...” She trailed off. “Did I ruin plans the two of you had?”  
   
Garak considered a moment how to answer. “I believe you should ask the doctor,” he said. “I've said all I intend to say on the matter. I don't make it a habit to interfere in my friends' affairs, but since you've gone out of your way on more than one occasion to help me with Julian, I felt I should return the favor.”  
   
She drew her lower lip between her teeth lightly, thoughtful and troubled. “I'm sorry I snapped at you,” she said. “I'll think about what you said, and I'll talk to him. Thank you, Garak. I should probably go.”  
   
“As you wish,” he said. “I'm done with my lunch, and I have to get back to work, myself. For what it's worth, I wish you luck with your...situation.” She shot him a fleeting, genuine smile, dipped her head, and hurried away. He shook his head slightly and gathered his tray. He wasn't sure what to think of his expanding social horizons. It was nothing like Cardassia. He felt very out of his element and disconcerted that people seemed to value his opinion on personal matters. His life, as far as he could see, was hardly an example of how to cultivate and maintain a healthy romance. All he needed now was for some Bajoran to become genuinely interested in him to convince him he was losing all grasp on reality or how the world worked. He laughed to himself at that thought and did as he told Dax he intended to do, got back to work.  
   
_Julian  
Dax's Private Quarters_  
   
Julian wasn't quite sure what to expect from being summoned to Dax's. He knew that Doctor Khan had departed the day before with the rest of the Trill scientists, and he knew without having to be told that Dax was crushed. It wasn't like her to open up when it came to such things. She usually withdrew until she had a handle on her emotions and refused to speak of her hurts until much later, if at all. He did his best not to have any preconceptions when she answered the door quietly in civilian clothing and let him in.  
   
“I've been a horrible friend to you,” she said in a shaky voice and turned away from him.  
   
“What?” he asked, taken aback. “Don't be ridiculous, Jadzia. You're one of the best friends I've ever had.” He closed the distance between them and put a hand to her shoulder.  
   
She gently but firmly shrugged him off, turning with tears in her eyes. “No,” she said. “I take advantage. I know I do. This whole time Lenara was here, I was so absorbed in what I wanted and how to get it that I...I used you.”  
   
He started to deny and stopped himself, thinking of Leeta. Hadn't that been exactly how he felt the night of the dinner? While he might never have told her this on his own, if she was bringing it up, he owed it to her to be honest. “I have to admit, it did feel that way a little the night we all had dinner together.”  
   
She nodded and dabbed at her eyes. “I completely ran roughshod over your plans. I didn't even give you a chance to tell me what you were going to do. What did I ruin for you that night?”  
   
He frowned slightly. Where was this coming from all of a sudden? “Did...Leeta talk to you?”  
   
“Leeta? No, wh...Oh, no. Did I mess up a date?”  
   
“We had dinner arrangements,” he said, feeling uncomfortable. He decided not to mention Garak, knowing that ever since he came to her about the trouble they had, she didn't much like the tailor. “She was upset. I think she might have been a little jealous.”  
   
“I'm so sorry,” she said. “I suppose I should talk to her.”  
   
“I'd rather you didn't. She'll think I talked to you about this, and I don't think that would go over well. You're a good friend, regardless of what you think. I...” He couldn't believe he was saying this, but he knew it was long overdue if he wanted any chance of things working out with Leeta. Thanks both to Garak and Leeta, he realized that he actually did. “I don't think we should see quite so much of each other outside of work. I mean, when you really need me, of course I want to be there, but... I need to focus more on what I'm doing with Leeta.”  
   
She smiled a little sadly, but her look was understanding. “You're right,” she said. “You do. So, you've decided you love her after all?”  
   
“I think I'm starting to,” he said, nodding.  
   
“What about Garak?” she asked.  
   
“There will always be a part of me that wants him,” he said, doubting he'd be able to tell that to anyone else. “I can't explain it, and even though I've tried, I can't make it go away. We're not good together, though. We...just hurt each other, even when we don't want to, and sometimes we actually want to. I can't do that. I can't live like that.”  _I can't lie to him well enough, and as dishonest as he is, he'll never accept anything from me that's less than the truth,_  he added silently to himself. “I thought you were glad Garak and I were through.”  
   
“I don't know what to think about it. On one hand, I've never seen you more miserable than when you were with him, but I've also never seen you as happy. You're the only one who can decide if the balance is worth it, and since you're committed to making things work with Leeta, I have to believe you've decided this is better. As selfish as I can be, and as wrapped up in my own life as I get, it has never stopped me from wanting to see you happy. Who you're happy with has always been secondary.”  
   
“See?” he said, forcing a smile. “You are a good friend. Are you all right, Jadzia? I know how much you wanted Lenara to stay.”  
   
“I feel like a part of me has been ripped out,” she confessed. “But...” She held a fist out to him and quirked a crooked, painful smile. “This isn't love.” She relaxed her hand and made a fluttering gesture. “No matter what you do, you can't make them stay if they don't want to.”  
   
He sighed and pulled her into a tight embrace. As much as he wished that he didn't, he knew that all too well. He wondered how soon it would be before it was his turn to let go again.

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place before and during “Rejoined.” Very little dialogue from the episode made it into the story, just one exchange between Julian and a nurse regarding a patient with a broken leg. When watching the show, I always found myself wondering what plans Julian had that Dax strong armed him away from to chaperon her and Lenara for dinner. In some ways, this is my answer to that question. This first appeared on LiveJournal March 11, 2010.


End file.
